Horns: Den of Sin
by NintendoNoir1
Summary: Who was to say that Ignatius Perrish was the only and last mortal cursed by Lucifer, cursed with the Horns? Some time later, somewhere else, a poor, desperate soul is suffering from tragedy, fallen from grace,and cursed with the Horns. The path of sin, vengeance, and damnation is followed once again, this time by a newcomer...One-shot, hopefully to end up as a possible full story!
**A/N: I do not own Horns. Horns is written, created, and owned by Joe Hill. I do not exactly intend this as a sequel to the original works, more like a prolouge to a pseudo-sequel. Not purely based off the original novel and adapted film, but somewhat like an elsewhere fic of similar story, with some added continuity with the original works. That said, if this one shot obtained some satisfying attention, i may adapt this into a full story. All of that said, Read and review, and please enjoy!**

 **Btw, the girl Glenna in this one shot is the female character that was the main character's childhood friend in the original novel and adapted film. In the ending of both works, she made a decision about her life and chose to move somewhere else. She will be presented as this fic's form of continuity with the original works. Again, enjoy!**

Glenna tossed and turned in her sleep. It has been three months since Ig's death and the incident about him and the horns. She can recall of the day when her childhood and crush had a pair of horns protrude from his temples, and caused her and everyone to gush their darkest sins to him. She really hadn't no true knowledge of his death. Only what she had been told from Ig's elder brother, Terry. According to him, Ig had found both closure and Merrin's killer. A discovery that resulted in three out of four of her childhood friends. As she tossed and turned, her dreams were of Ignatius Perrish, of the love she had reluctantly had for him, then it switched to something else. It was of a young man in leather jacket, almost like Ig's, but it wasn't him. Then young man wore a black leather jacket and a pair of jeans with gaping holes on the fabric around the knees. His skin was eerily pale and smooth. His hair was jet black, greasy and partially slicked back, in a sort of grunge era style. And as he turned his head, allowing her view of his face, she then saw the astounding detail. On the temples of his forehead, rests a pair of horns. Just like Ig had...

She shot up in bed, gasping. A brown cat with eyes that behold a celestial shade of green, walked over to her, rubbing against her arm.

"Ignatius.." She mused as she petted the cat, which she had named after her beloved friend.

She stood up and walked over over to the window of her small apartment, looking out over the city at its hour of night. She had come here to get away from her past, from the shadow of regrets she had and how everything used to be. Her nightmares had been like this for awhile and they were getting worse. The more and more frequent this man had appeared in her subconscious, the more she could swear she had seen him before. She walked over to her coat and threw it on. She walked the streets and rubbed her sides up and down, conducting heat. She looked to one side of the street at a addict getting his fix. They were dirty and disgusting as sin, so she kept walking. Then she saw a couple of police cars parked in front of a tree in front of an entrance to the nearby forest, with their sirens flashing, drawing in a small crowd of people, like moths to the flame.

Including herself.

In front of the tree, was the corpse of a young woman, physically resembling as if she were either in her late teens or early adults. Anyone's best guess were 18-23. Cops, paramedics and a photographer were examining over the corpse, as they would then carry it off on a stretcher. Her abdomen had a huge wound caused by a large knife, her collarbone had fragments in her spinal cord and bruised parts of muscle, possibly being slammed against the tree. The blood and bruises on her face couldn't hide the beauty of her features. Her eyes and mouth were open in an eternal grimace of horror.

A investigator, mid-forties looking, short and a little heavyset, with a long leather duster, was sorting through the belongings of the wallet found on the poor girl, reading her ID and talking to a colleague.

"Juliet Connors. Young girl, fresh out of high school, lives on 333 Binkley Street. Most likely still living with her parents." The Investigator said with a distinct Jersey accent, with a nasal tone.

"Poor young thing, snuffed out at such a ripe age. The sick fucks probably had their way with her." Said the colleague, who had a southern drawl, but not the nice kind. His was the kind that Glenna would describe as the kind belonging to a disturbing, redneck relative that she would want to distance herself from.

"I've already notified the parents. They didn't taken quite well. They pointed out a boyfriend of the girl's in my direction. Dante Turner, lives out on 107 Angel Avenue. They said he's kinda kid you'd in that punk rock type crowd." Said the officer.

"Think he's the sick fuck that did this?" Questioned the colleague.

"Don't for sure yet. Possible suspect. Only thing for sure is that he's the first lead we got" Answered the investigator.

"Planning to question him?" Again questioned the colleague.

"Fixing to get ready to" The investigator said as he lit a cigarette. He turned heading to the patrol car, his southern colleague following him.

As Glenna would watch and listen, she struggled to hold back the tears building up in her eyes. She found this too familiar. Almost a dead ringer for what to Merrin in her old hometown. Not to mention, she actually sorta knew this girl. A kind she would bump into at the local church. She would do errands for most of the people she'd known. Glenna chose to leave the scene, not being able to continue watching nor could she bare it.

She walked to a little place to get her some food. Then she walked off to her apartment. She walked up to her room and plopped onto her bed and started to fall asleep.

 _'I hope things don't repeat themselves"_ She thought, grief and sorrow lacing her mind as she would drift slowly to unconsciousness, praying for morning to come.


End file.
